


The observations of an udon chef in the rain

by XIII_DEATH



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Food, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25242220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XIII_DEATH/pseuds/XIII_DEATH
Summary: An udon chef in Amegakure has a conversation with an odd patron (input always appreciated)
Kudos: 2





	The observations of an udon chef in the rain

“The most important part of a village is its chefs.” He says to me, sitting in my small restaurant at the counter, the only one here at this time of night apart from me. HE’s an odd fellow, but I get odd fellows like him all the time, even ones like him who wear their treachery on their sleeve, and in his case quite literally. He’s taken a lot of work to hide his identity, the low brimmed hat, the rebreather, the goggles, the scarf, the umbrella, the raincoat, it’s almost comical to see a man bundled up like that, but he still doesn’t manage to hide the dark red hair under his hat, even if it’s clear he’s tied it up to hopefully do so.

“What makes you say that?” I muse, noting the various headbands he’s had tied around his neck and arms, a few hanging on his belt. HE has a collection, but nothing doubles up from what I see, rules out the chance of being a headhunter, maybe a spy of some kind, but it’s hard to tell, it would explain why he’s taken such care to hide his face however.

The man glances up from his udon, picking up one half of the soft boiled egg, a specialty of mine, my pride as chef. I watch him turn it between his chopsticks, keeping an eye on his hand as he puts the egg in his mouth, leaning back slightly in his chair, clearly formulating his response. “Did you know that the majority of shinobi don’t know how to cook much more than cup ramen? I suppose it’s because instant food is more manageable on missions, but it means while they’re in the village where they have a chance to eat anything they like, they often lack the ability to do much more than eat the same things they eat in the field, candy bars, instant ramen, soups, other such things you’d find in a bento. Of course, if they have someone in the village who they can pay for fresh food that’s been cooked with a bit more finesse, they usually will, and are often better off for it. Do you think there are many shinobi in this village who could soft boil an egg, or make such perfect hand made noodles?”

I try not to scoff at the remark, I know damn well no one who comes to this place could soft boil an egg, let alone make proper udon, I doubt any of them had even tried, but I don’t say that. “I’m sure they could learn if they had the time. Can you cook?”

HE slurps his noodles, taking a sip of the broth before picking out one of the pieces of octopus from the broth, chewing it for a bit before taking another sip to properly wash it down. “My parents worked hard to make sure I knew how to cook, and I spent a lot of time during my time in various villages interning under various chefs, I wanted to make sure I could make a good variety of food, but I’ve always been best at making the red and green curries of the village I grew up in.”

And that’s an answer to his first question. A Spy. And one who grew up in the land of tall grass, thus why that bandana is so prominent upon his neck. “IT’s good to learn how to cook I feel, fresh made food is one of life’s unspoiled pleasures, and it’s such a shame that so many live their lives without knowing that.” I pour tea into a small mug, holding it up as I turn to face him again.

He grins, taking one of the shrimp from his bowl, putting it in his mouth before turning to look at me. “My mother lived in a small village far from here for much of her life, where they predominantly ate soups made of bamboo and the flesh of snakes. IT was delicious, she even made me some once, but it wasn’t substantial. Sometimes if they were lucky they could catch other animals or find plants with more interesting flavours, but it was far too rare. It was the food that kept her here. She came down to the land of tall grass from her home village, fell in love with their curries, then in love with a man in this very village and the udon he made.”

What an interesting tidbit, and explaining the rebreather, it did look a bit old. “Your father made Udon eh? How does mine measure up.”

THe man took his last slurp, looking at me and smiling before getting up and setting his Ryo on the counter. “It’s delicious, it has heart, reminds me of the good old days. You can expect me to come back.” He steps towards the door, turning back. “Another thing about the chefs in villages, they’re the first people you should see if you’re looking to uncover the village’s secrets, the first person you should visit is a chef who makes the local delicacy and get to know them, and they can tell you all you’ll ever need to know without saying a word.”

And then like that he’s gone. I stand there, watching the door, taking the empty bowl to the sink to wash it after a minute passes. COuld he be right, what could I have possibly divulged. There’s no doubt that I keep secrets, even for the highest order, but I didn’t tell him anything. I close up early and go up to my apartment where I live alone. I go to bed early but I just lie there, thinking about what he’d said, afraid I’d done something wrong. Slowly I drift of, thinking of udon and listening to the sounds of rain. 


End file.
